Grave Tidings
by Ithil-valon
Summary: A messenger from beyond the grave reaches out to Faramir on the day before his marriage.


**Grave Tidings**

_**I think continually of those who were truly great... The names of those who, in their lives, fought for life…who wore at their hearts the fire's center. Born of the sun they traveled a short while toward the sun, and left the vivid air signed with their honor.**_

_**~ Steven Spender ~**_

Golden light blinded him, but it was welcome because it was full of warmth and love. He felt good here…complete, and happy. He wanted to stay and not move, but something pulled him forward. He felt as though he was gliding rather than walking, yet it seemed most natural. In the distance he could hear the eternal beat of the sea, soothing him with its timeless rhythm. He breathed deeply of the salty air, smiling at the memories of sun-filled days spent running in the surf and collecting shells for his mother. Dol Amroth, the birthplace of his mother, and the summer home where he'd spent such good times as a child, before his world was torn asunder by the death of the lovely Finduilas. Faramir smiled, for he now knew where he was even though his eyes were still blinded by the golden essence surrounding him.

Slowly, bit by bit, the light lessened so that he could begin to discern myriad shapes. Suddenly the gold was on not only in the air around him, it was at his feet. He paused, detecting a new scent…another familiar one, but one that was sweeter. Elanor. Yes, that was it. The yellow, star-shaped flowers were all around him, filling his lungs with their wonderful scent, the fragrance he would forever associate with his mother.

As far as he could make out across this enormous field, elanor blew in the breeze like an undulating sea of yellow and green. It was a beautiful and strangely peaceful sight, and Faramir smiled at the image, simply enjoying the contentment flooding his soul.

Movement caught his attention, pulling his eyes from the vast field of flowers. Faramir's breath caught at the achingly familiar set of the shoulders. Boromir. Did he speak the name or only hear in his head? It mattered not, for his beloved brother heard his plea, and even now was turning towards him. Faramir dared not move or even breathe for fear that the image would dissolve, as a morning mist to the warmth of Anor.

Golden hair blowing in the breeze, fingers brushing the tips of the elanor, green eyes dancing with delight, even the absurd Horn of Gondor draped over his broad shoulders. Boromir looked exactly as he had the last time Faramir had set eyes upon him, the day he left on his benighted quest in search of Imladris. What madness had sent him off alone when their enemies were virtually at the gates of Gondor? No, he would not journey down that road. Now he would only treasure this moment with Ori. There would be time enough for grief and regret later.

Boromir smiled. "Remember today, little brother. Today life is good."

"I do remember," vowed Faramir. "That day is forever etched in my memory. Arda is a much colder place without you in it. I miss you so much, brother."

"No, Gingersnap," Boromir rebuked gently, "you are not hearing me." He glanced down at his hand and Faramir's hungry eyes followed. Ori's fingertips caressed the elanor, his eyes beseeching Faramir to understand.

"My Lord? My Lord!"

"No," cried Faramir, as the image faded.

Strong arms grasped him, leading him stumbling over to the bedside. "Sit Faramir, for you are whey face."

"Damrod?"

"I am here. We are in your apartment." The dark-haired blue-eyed Ranger had been by Faramir's side since he first became the Commander of the Ithilien Brigade. A man of Rohan and member of the elite 'Thangail Dinen', the 'Silent Shield', the Secret Service of Gondor, Damrod had been tasked with Faramir's protection by none other than Boromir himself. _"I shall protect my lord until you release me, or death take me,"_ The Noble Hammer, or so his alias meant, had said the night he accepted his commission, and he had been by Faramir's side ever since.

"I saw…Boromir again," Faramir stammered.

"No, do not attempt to speak now," the ranger soothed. He was no stranger to Faramir's visions, which would come upon his lord unbidden and leave him vulnerable and disoriented. "Rest and recover your wits."

"Boromir," sighed the Steward of Gondor, his eyes misting. "It was so real."

"Your visions are always real, are they not?" reasoned Damrod. "Now be at peace, for your wedding day is on the morrow, and I would not face the King or - worse yet – the lady Éowyn, should I let you sicken yourself now."

"No," Faramir shook his head, "he is attempting to tell me something important. I am sure of it."

"Shush," Damrod said, urging the Steward back to a prone position. "It is early yet. Sleep a while, and perhaps Boromir will visit your dreams to better explain." Damrod was not being condescending, for had known the Captain General in life and doubted not that the strength of his love for his younger brother…his gingersnap, as he called his fox-haired sibling, could transcend even death.

A tap at the door interrupted any further instructions, and Damrod crossed the room to see who it was.

A servant bobbed his head when Damrod answered the door. "I have his Lordship's break of fast."

"His Lordship is still resting," answered the ranger. "Take it back, please, and I will send a summons when he is ready."

"Yes sir," nodded the servant again, turning to return the morning fare to the kitchens.

Damn, Damrod fumed to himself, for now there would, no doubt, be some gossip about Faramir being abed so late in the morning. Well, no matter, for it could not be helped, but just let some foolish person speak so in Damrod's presence and that person would rue the day he chose to prattle on about the Lord Faramir. The ranger settled himself onto a chair by the door to watch over his lord while he slept. The visions seemed to be coming more frequently of late, and he worried about the effect they were having on Faramir, who kept seeing his brother and could not understand what it was Boromir was trying to tell him.

Faramir's dreams were scattered images of his brother: his vambraces, etched with the White Tree of Gondor; the burgundy cloak with the sable collar; the round black and gold shield. These images gave way to the sea and elanor clad field. The fragrance lingered in his mind as he awoke, batting ginger-colored eyelashes. "Damrod?"

"I am here," the ranger immediately answered. "Are you well?'

"Aye," Faramir answered, sitting up to the side of the bed and rubbing his eyes.

"Did your dreams provide more pieces to the puzzle then?" inquired the smiling Damrod, whose countenance clouded when he saw the visage upon Faramir's. "You have an answer?"

Faramir nodded slowly. "I believe I do. It will require me entering my father's apartments."

The apartments of the Steward stood as they had the last day of the Lord Denethor's life. Faramir, by rights as the present Steward of Gondor, could occupy the vast rooms, but so far had been content to remain in the apartments he had inhabited since leaving the nursery. His room opened onto a bathing chamber which, in turn, opened into the former apartment of Boromir. The brothers had shared the huge sunken bathing tub since childhood. Built for the seven foot plus Númenóreans, it was large enough to accommodate several grown men. Boromir had taught Faramir to swim in it, and there had always been a running joke between the brothers that Boromir was forever losing the bath stop!

Faramir had, in fact, not been inside either his brother or father's rooms since their deaths, but it seemed that he would have to do so today.

Damrod understood what this would mean for Faramir. He sat on the bed beside his friend. "Tell me what you seek, and I will retrieve it for you."

Faramir squared his shoulders. "You are the best friend I have, Damrod, but this is something I must do myself."

Damrod rose and clapped his friend on the shoulder. "I will be in my rooms should you need me."

Faramir sat for a few moments picturing the item he would need in his mind. He was sure this was what Boromir had been trying to tell him, but why? That was the question. Rising, Faramir tugged his tunic down, left his rooms, and walked down the hallway to the apartment still so infused with his father's essence. In the past there would have been two guards stationed outside the doors, while inside a pair of brindle bitch hounds would be lounging on the rug before a roaring fire. Now the hallway was empty, for the King's apartments were on the opposite side of the Citadel.

Taking a steeling breath, Faramir opened the door, pausing briefly to let the memories wash over him. Someone had obviously been in here to keep the room dusted. It looked as thought it had been occupied only this morning, save for the cold fireplace and unlit candles. His eyes caressed the room, and then fell on the box.

It sat on the table besides Denethor's bed, where it had been kept all of Faramir's life. Made of Lebethron wood, the top was carved and painted to resemble the elanor flowers of Dol Amroth. It has been a wedding gift from Denethor to his bride, Finduilas.

Faramir's throat was dry as he picked up the box and sat down on the sable covered bed. His fingers traced each flower as a gentle smile of remembrance graced his features. "Your father loves you, Faramir. He will remember it ere the end." Those words of Mithrandir's had been fulfilled, and Faramir had never doubted his mother's love. Now they were together with Boromir, and Faramir alone was left. Tomorrow he would join his life with Éowyn's, and soon, perhaps, a new generation of Húrins would grace these halls.

Tenderly he opened the lid, not sure what he would find. It lay on top. A cream colored enveloped sealed with burgundy wax bearing the seal of the Captain General of Gondor. Faramir picked up the envelope and turned it over. His name was written in his brother's distinctive script. With shaking fingers, he broke the seal and pulled out the letter.

_To Captain the Lord Faramir of the House of Hurin, Commandant of the Ithilien Brigade, Captain General of Gondor,_

_Salutations,_

_Dearest Brother,_

_For you to be reading this missive I am no longer resident upon Arda._

_Today I was required to review my letters. Father has decreed I am to represent our land at the Council of Elrond in Rivendell. Whilst I disagree with his decision, I am sworn to service, and the luxury of refusal is removed from me. I shall part from you at Osgiliath in a few short hours, and my heart shall fracture at that farewell, for I fear I never shall set foot in the Fortress of the Stars ever again._

_When I look at you, at the fine man you have become, I thank Eru for the privilege of naming you my brother._

_Duty has not permitted us to be in one another's company quite as much as we would have wished. May I say that the quantity of time was unequal to the quality of the time? When we were together time held no dominion. Precious was the meanest degree of the hour. Oh, to have been born to the commons; sooner I would have worked the land, tilled the soil, with you by my side, than to grace the Hall of the Kings._

_Be not sorrowful at my passing, child of the Citadel. All must pass the veil at some time. My time is come, but you are still with the living, and you have no place with the dead. If you ever loved me, brother, find a lady who shall love you as I did, who shall honour you, as so few did, and who shall bear your sons, and daughters, not for Gondor, for she is a cruel mistress, but for you alone._

_Spend time in their short childhoods, catch tadpoles, net butterflies, pop corn, fly kites, swim sky-clad in the Anduin, fish off the ferry stage at Lossarnach, hunt dragons at Ceber-Annun, the Sunset Tower, the Dragon's Tower of our childhood, and run barefoot along the shores of Bel-falas as we did with our lady mother. Show them love, do not leave it to their imagination, as we were oft time wont to do. Children are our future. Invest in them, brother, nurture them, guide them, love them, and tell them of the uncle who wishes he could have met them 'ere they cross the veil._

_Now I must close this missive, for I have but four hours in which to rest before I ride out of Osgiliath to Minas Tirith. There I shall take my leave of our lord and father, and set out for Rivendell. My heart is heavy for we are to part. My soul is in torment for this does not feel like a wise choice; I believe I ought to remain in Gondor, there to fight for our people._

_Stay true to your oath, Faramine, for a soldier has naught but honour when he goes before the One. Keep faith with the Steward, for the man is beleaguered, but his heart is true, and his life is Gondor's._

_Above all, darling brother, know that the greatest privilege of my life has been to call you my kin. No brother ever had such a loving sibling._

_Be safe, be happy, be yourself,_

_Your loving brother,_

_Boromir,_

_Captain General of Gondor, High Warden of the White Tower, and Brother of Faramir, in whose glad company I shall not be ashamed, when the stars burn out, and time ends._

_Long Live the King._

Tears coursed down Faramir's face as he sat holding the letter to his chest. Without a doubt, he knew that Boromir had wanted him to have this letter before he married. It was Boromir's way of telling him to live his life, and to fulfill his destiny as a Húrin and a proud son of Gondor.

Drying his eyes, Faramir determined what he would do. He would honor his heritage and do his brother proud. Putting the letter back into his mother's box, he walked to the double doors of the apartment to summon a servant. The personal items would be removed and stored for safekeeping. Then he and Éowyn would occupy these rooms as man and wife. He smiled as he imagined their children playing on the floor with a pair of hounds. The ghosts of the Citadel would no longer haunt him; rather they would wait patiently until the day he would join them to watch over future Húrins.

The End


End file.
